Scarlet
A Literary Journal
Scarlet is a bimonthly blog dedicated to publishing the work of artists whose pieces give voice to the complexities of our multiple identities. In keeping with JIP’s mission to uplift marginalized voices, Scarlet aims to showcase bold and unique framings of the view from the margins, giving strong preference to writing that questions norms and provokes discourse.
“Tyrant”
Rage toward the silent voices, the neglectful voices that stand in the middle using their
“Your Featherbed”
Yours was my firstfeatherbed.Box stitched billows ofwarmthfloating undera sea offlannel security. Your oversizedold puffy comfortersealed
“Unconditional”
Her unkempt hair covers her face and her little hands flail asserting her disgust This
“They Birthed Nations, Word Says”
The women who could not bear children at first: Sarai, Rachel, Rebekah, Hannah,Samson’s mother—name not
“Trust”, “graveyards and parking lots” and “Might”
Trust In my first weeks of motherhood –a butchered belly busy reassembling its hip-wide slice,drenched
The Manet
“What do you think of this painting by Manet?” I’m studying vibrant green stems visible
“Your Wolf Heart”, “The Genealogy of Sand”, and “Dead, She Was Not Mourned By Any of Them”
Your Wolf Heart ~after a line in Jack Gilbert’s “How to Love the Dead” The
Lover’s Spit
He has never-met a bad-Sofia. Do you-want-children? What would you-name-your-daughter? She has known him for
“On Mountain Biking”
A montage of maple, sassafras, birch, and beech trees. Leafywaves, ridges, saws, hand and mitten
“Listen to the Hot Air Balloon Talking”
Van Gogh tried killing himself, but people still talk more about his severed fucking ear.
“The Bark of a Tree Was Once Gentle in the Mouth”, “Over the Valley of the Kings”, and “Lucy to Her Children Under the Awaash Sky”
“The Bark of a Tree Was Once Gentle in the Mouth” During war, famine spoilsthe
“What’s First To Fade”
JACK: Our fight will fade, yours will too. There’s no stoppage to the stoppage of
“Motherland Black”
I lung for that pollen sneezin’, sticky car seatin’, Atlanta heat, but it ain’t enough
“Diaspores”, “Portrait at the Border”, and “The Seedling”
“Diaspores” A broken clothesline leans against its shadow nothing to hang memories on through the
“Life in Wedding Anniversaries”
Till death do us part,for as long as we both shall live,She and He vowed.
“J’y suis, j’y reste” (Here I am, here I stay), “Allons-y” (Let’s Go), “Mademoiselle Mulligan”, and “jaywalking”
“J’y suis, j’y reste”(Here I am, here I stay) Across the cerulean chasm of id,I
Good Compost
prologue :: the roots have & to hold A man holds his still-beating heart in
“Becoming one of those people who writes poetry about their menstrual cycle”
…but you won’t hear me talk about any ‘divine feminine’ i don’t know her. and
Skinless
I was eating breakfast when my sister came into the kitchen without her skin. I
“By Invitation Only”, “Butterflies and Sirens”, “The Fall”, “Invisible”, “After the Assault” and “Last Will”
By Invitation Only Just when you think you can hear beyondthe mowers and raw hum
“The Baseball Lesson in August Wilson’s Fences”, “In Attendance of the Watch Night Service”, and “When The Hurricane Passed: Rubin Carter”
The Baseball Lesson in August Wilson’s Fences Baseball can teach you the cruelest of lessons,
“Safe” and “The Line”
Safe On my way to the obstetricianI pass a street of venders.Sparkling jewels reflect Soho
Do you need what I need?
Last Christmas, I was having coffee one morning with a friend at Starbucks. We hadn’t
“The Road”, “Left”, and “We Were Wives”
The Road I have nothing to say to the man at the cross in the
In Winter with Warm Tears
Mother loved a good dichotomy. That’s how it seemed to the child. In her blue
Superheroes in Sensible Shoes
“I always knew my grandmother loved me. She saved me, gave me any confidence I
“Birth of the Blues”, “A White Rosary”, “Collage – after Romare Bearden”, and “Childhood”
Birth of the Blues Was it Miles Davis’ “Kinda Blue” bringing me home to you?
Reaching for the Moon
Remembering. A beautiful word. And for the last decade, this was what Kathleen had done
“The Seventh Column”, “Anemone”, and “Health and Safety”
The Seventh Column Once again Diderot’s beautiful ruin standsin the corner of my mind,the great
“Cobalt Tears”, “Silent Parties”, “I Think a Painter Drives That Car”, “Red Lines”, “The Parlor”, and “Of Violets”
Cobalt Tears Before his body can form the needed musclesTo uphold the soaking load of
No Fury Like…
Medusa. There’s a reason they call you that. It’s not so much the mythology course
The 12-Year Old Decision that Now Haunts Me
They were to write about their career aspirations. Scrawly English words rioted across a sheet
“Neelakurinji”, “In the Ghazal (a Ghazal)”, “Drunk Friday Musings”, “Of Inquilab”, “A Villanelle”, and “Majnoon’s Grief (A Pantoum)”
Neelakurinji The blue mountains are purple again as though estranged lovers have washed up ashore
“Collateral Damage” and “Bamboo”
Collateral Damage i. then, as in the past, there were photographs of boys who died
Keeper of the Vortex
Agatha tended the Vortex. It was her punishment for not obeying the Prefect of the
When We Were Cowboys
When the nurse came into the room, I had just awakened from a dream. She
“Serenity Prayer for a Black Woman,” “Black and Blue,” “Kelly Price is Missing,” and “Light-Skin Chick Blues”
God grant me the serenity to accept
the things I cannot change for I cannot change
the kinks and coils of my hair,
the skin that criminalizes me,
the body reduced to what it can do and who for;
“In Tandem”, “Corpsing”, “Game of Thrones, S1 E7”, “Hudson Estuary”, “Alley Singer”, and “You, Again”
As my age gains on me, my mother stops short
of hers, buying toys yearly for my grown daughter —
Dust
“Daddy always loved the lake,” remarked Jelisa Lu. “He’d swim in the buff every morning at dawn. I’d hear him bellow, ONE-TWO-SIX!!! Then a big fat splash.”
“Queen of Swords”, “Claws”, “In Her Voice”, “Hunger”, and “Sometimes a Bird Outside”
He thought she was the Queen of Swords. She didn’t see herself like that, more like the Queen of Cups perhaps.
Bedding a Ghost
Sshhhck.
She has no idea where she is. Surrounded by blackness, like floating in a void.
Unwritten Rule
There’s a rope between me and the edge of the dock,
there to keep people from falling or jumping in.
The Pripyat Marshes
Some marsh plants have hollow stems, could be used as straws. The villagers would have known this, he says, could have taken a few on the march to the marshes, or better yet, pulled the pith from a young twig to make it hollow.
Mestiza
I pledge allegiance to the flag.
Land of the free.
I beam with natural born citizenry.
“Just Two Girls Revisited” “After the Hottest Heat Wave in Earth’s History””Just Two Girls Revisited” & “After the Call When You Learn Your Friend, Sick at Least a Year, Has Brain Cancer”
A bandaid on the road to stop the spread,
dogs process through their noses: goose turds, a seagull feather,
a flock of cancer cells flaps past.
Pulling Out an Ace
In kindergarten, you had a boyfriend, who sat on the bus next to you and held your hand
The Knife
The Johnsons had no pretensions that they from were a class down from even my working-class family, which was not saying much where we came from, except that, behind their backs, everybody called them ‘white trash’.
Shelter Choices
These are not the cats I would have chosen. I apologize every time someone tells me they are beautiful.
Frescoes Unadorned
That I woke up at all was not my intention. I’d reasoned with myself in a depressed state that I had had enough life lessons and experiences that qualified me to take a short-cut to the great beyond.
“The Pain Holder” “Many Unexplainable Pains” “Setting The Table” & “Lament For Winged Things”
Is she The Pain Holder now? my therapist asks.
Prisoner of the Château-Fort du Louvre
“Confess yourself,” said the priest, coming toward him through shadow and light. “Notable captive.”
Ụmụazi
Chukwu mo! Your air is the whitest version of white. Your voice is the softest version of soft. Your face no mortal or immortal has seen. Chukwu, I speak in my name and those of these two other Chi. We are back from our earthly sojourn with the souls you placed in our care.
The Immigrant Insight: How important is language?
What does it mean to be an Immigrant? Only if you are one, you will really know. For most of us it is a challenging journey, even if you have landed well.
Plastic Dragon
When I birthed my second daughter, the doctors insisted I push instead of jumping straight to a C-section as we had done seven years ago with the first.
Dame Edna
“You didn’t wash your car,” she declares as I pull up to the curb where she is waiting, tapping her cane.
“Stoppers” “Little Alien” & “Toys”
Is it a roofing nail? Its
point meant to fill
a cervix. Later, with legs
splayed to lock it in
“I Am You”, “Chimes of a Bell”, “She Walked Away” & “An Undying Suffering”
Here, for a transitory period, existence questioned sometimes,
I make you seen, an invisible pain killing me.
After the Bars Let Out
The streets were barren at 3:00 a.m. Up and down the main drag, the bars had all let out. She meandered in a sleepy stupor, bags beneath her eyes slipping off her cheeks. One could say she presented drunkenness.
Black As…
Dad is black
Black as tar
And then some more
He’s not a slave
But who can tell for sure
Cause he’s black
Sometimes blacker
Than a moonless night
Apologies
“That’s seven. And eight,” I said. “Two in a row!” “The next stop is a few miles,” my father said. I was no longer a child, but I felt like one on that drive.
What Do You Know About Love?
Isabel sat down in her favorite chair, its back leg all wobbly. A bit of
Bad Faith
In the stranger’s basement bedroom, I awoke, facing a staircase that had pale blue lights
Craft Lessons from Cleveland: How Browns Fandom Prepared Me for the Writing Life
Statue of NFL Hall of Fame inductee Jim Brown (Photo courtesy of the author). There
“grocery shopping/i am distraught” & “vermont”
grocery shopping/i am distraught death is not at all in opposition to life i went
S.O.S/Eso Es
Statement from the artist on the piece: Queer, feminine, chicanx, womxn, are all categories that
“Oh master of two worlds” & others
Oh master of two worlds The crescent moon has pulled your
This is a Test
Section I – Diversion/ Focus This section’s instructions are listed below, but the questions will
Nothing Like Swimming & Others
Cecily Schuler is a genderqueer writer and spoken word artist, raised and
A Battery of Tests
“Compensation” shows itself as a consistent, gendered thread in my life story.
occasional elements and bodies they make
occasional elements and bodies they make Sunlight, consequence of sun, wakes me. Sweeps slow,
from Fairy Tales from Outer Space
Pluto If we were starfish (who can regenerate limbs), what would trauma
[the plural circuits of tell]
What does genre mean to you and how does it build/unbuild your
Town & Country, or How to Find Your Chicana Nerd Style
I wanted to belong — but I didn’t want to dress like everyone else. Down
Land: Tierra
I want to write about tierra, which means soil or earth to my people, maybe
The Burden of Diversity
Every year it was the same. The then Milwaukee Sentinel printed the pictures of all
Writing Woke
Several years ago during my first semester in graduate school, some of my classmates and
An Open Letter to White Allies in the Literary Community
Disclaimer One: The intended audience for this talk is mainly white writers, so I use
Where Writers of African Ancestry in America Find Themselves
There has never been a consensus or even a plurality agreement among writers who identify
Craft, White Gaze, and Black Gaze
In 2014, I spoke on a panel called “Crossing (Imagined) Borders: Research, Writing, and the
White Supremacy, White Privilege, and Me
When I was 10 in 1969, without permission, I went and had my hot combed
Being a White Ally: Filling my Mother’s Shoes
When I was a kid growing up in a white (and cis and straight) suburb
Love Letter (an avalanche)
My ex-husband suffered bipolar disorder. We lived among the facts of his illness. Trips to
Embracing the Feminine in Writing and in Body
My graduate reading was supposed to be fifteen minutes, which is a hard number to
The Falling Sickness
Of all the gifts a poet can be given, epilepsy is the richest. I fell
Recovering the Joy in Writing
A few years ago, I taught a class on recovering joy in the writing process.
When Truth is Elusive
Somewhere in the middle of my fifth draft, I realized I was full of shit.
I Get By With A Little Help From Humor
I write in a variety of genres: fiction, non-fiction, and poetry, and the interesting thing
Writer’s Callus
Keep Pure. Rolling Hand. Big Wave. Breaking down the Fortress. Luck and Fortune. Sound Knowledge.
The Thing Writing Classes Can’t Teach
There’s one thing that can’t be taught in writing classes. It’s really too bad, too,
To Bail or Not to Bail on a Book
Every writer needs to read. A lot. All the successful ones say the same thing:
Fiction Writing as a Visual Art
I learned how to write fiction by understanding the language of visual art. As an
How to Find Inspiration for Writing
I find inspiration in very unexpected places. I am a fan of reading biographies/ essays/
